Sweet Cherry Wine
by cutepet
Summary: Sherlock walks Molly home from the pub, but soon realizes they're being followed.


"… Not since we got the duck!" The small group erupted in laughter at John's dirty joke. They had all gathered at the pub for John's birthday, but it was getting late.

Sherlock would've left hours ago if not for Molly Hooper, whose shining eyes and giggle had been great distractions tonight. If he were honest, lately he had thought a lot about his pathologist, and not strictly in a platonic light.

_I bet her lips taste just like that cherry wine she's been drinking all night._

Once they all decided to call it a night, Dr. Watson, Master of Subtlety, nudged the detective towards the pathologist, saying loudly "Mary, didn't you want to show me that all-hour cafe? Sherlock, you should make sure Molly gets home alright, it's really late."

"Oh, that's not nec—"

Molly was interrupted by the future Mrs. Watson, "Of course it is, you never know what ruffians are out there. Off you go, shoo!"

"Come along, Molly, they will never rest until we do as they say." Secretly thankful for the opportunity, Sherlock led her in the direction of her flat. He would never let on how much he wanted to walk her home. Faintly, he could hear John and Mary giggling behind them.

The initial silence was awkward, but Molly couldn't help being speechless. Then, "Did you enjoy your evening, Molly Hooper?" His intense blue eyes were on her now.

"Y-Yes," she stuttered, "it was lovely." More silence. Sherlock heaved a great sigh, then nervously glanced behind them. Twice. The third time, she looked over to see worry spread across his face.

"Molly," he spoke through bitten lips,"I don't wish to alarm you, but we are being followed." Molly's first instinct was to turn her head as well, "No, don't look!" He put his hand on the small of her back, "This way," he started to guide her off the familiar route, making several turns and crossing dark alleys.

"Sherlock, where are we going?"

"Ssh, and pick up a little speed. Just around this corner, just a little further, ah, here we are." He pulled her into the alcove in front of an abandoned bookshop, pushed her against the wall and into his arms, shielding her from the street.

"Sh-Sherlock?" Her heart would surely beat out of her chest, a combination of adrenalin from fear and their intimate position in the alcove raising her heartbeat significantly.

"Hush. Do you hear footsteps?" He cocked his ear toward the street, then turned a determined look onto her face. "Molly," was the only warning she got before his lips were on hers. They were surprisingly soft and gentle, at first. Once she started kissing back, however, they gained heat. He pulled her tighter as he opened her mouth with his, and she felt his hands caress her sides as she found hers wrapped up in his dark curls.

Tongues touched and Molly moaned when Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist, nearly lifting her off her feet. Soon her senses returned and she remembered this was fake, they were being followed. When she pulled back, he trailed his lips across her cheek and down the column of her throat. "Darling," a whisper against her skin, "My Molly. You taste even sweeter than I imagined," a breath across her ear.

Wait. Imagined? What was he saying? "Y-You thought of this-us-"

"Yes. Endlessly, always."

"I never knew, I never saw any sign."

"Of course not," he said with his normal haughty tone, "as with everybody, you see but do not observe." He softened this with a soft kiss to the end of her nose.

"We must be off," he said suddenly, "… no use dallying in the streets when we're minutes from your building."

She hesitated in the doorway, "Wait," her voice full of worry, "Sherlock, whoever was following us, are they gone?"

He looked sheepish, "Uh, yes, nothing to worry about there, moved on I'm sure…"

"Sherlock -" she began with a note of warning, something wasn't right, "- what aren't you telling me?"

"Okay, fine, we weren't being followed! I had to do something to end the awkwardness, and it worked! Now come along," he tugged on her hand, "warm flat, warm bed." He pulled her close again for another kiss and Molly realized she could never be mad at Sherlock Holmes for long.


End file.
